


With Time, It's a Miracle

by hereismyhappyplace



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Deals With Heavy Topics, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, M/M, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Omega Verse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unwanted Pregnancy, bonded, established marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-04 14:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereismyhappyplace/pseuds/hereismyhappyplace
Summary: Hajime never realized that two words could make his entire world shatter so completely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just posting stuff from my blog. I accept prompts and write stories based off of them so feel free to send me some! ♡
> 
> [You can find me here](https://here-is-my-happy-place.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Prompt: Could you do a super angsty iwaoi mpreg fic where oikawa is pregnant and Iwaizumi doesn't want the baby but they stay together anyway and its really hard on them and the stress causes oikawa to get really sick and there's a risk of miscarriage and iwa realises that maybe he does want it after all.

_Happiness is such a frivolous thing._

Is the first thought Hajime has after his husband announces his ‘super exciting, extra special life changing’ news to him—it’s the third time this week he’s given him news likes this, so he doesn’t exactly have any high hopes in it being anything not completely ridiculous because it is so like his husband to get excited over the smallest things.

But Hajime should’ve been more prepared, taken the little wafts of joy, swirling with a tiny bit of anxiousness in Tooru’s scent more seriously. Tooru’s scent was always an open book to how he was feeling and their shared bond only made it easier to pick up on the omega’s ever changing array of moods. But he’s just made it out of a downpour after being force to _walk_ home instead of getting to take the train—his boss could be a real dick sometimes, forcing him to stay later and fix _other_ employees mistakes just because Hajime was the one with the bachelor’s degree and considered _less likely to fuck up more_ by his companies higher ups—only to be told he _has_ to go back into the cold, wet rain _again_ and receive the take-out Tooru’s ‘so graciously’ decided to order because, _“We’re celebrating, Iwa-chan! You can’t celebrate without yummy take-out food!”_

(Which he still goes out to get because a pouting Tooru is more of a headache to handle than just sucking it up and doing whatever he asks—it’s only taken a lifetime of friendship, five years of being bonded, and three years of marriage for him to figure that one out.)

So all of this balled into one massive oncoming migraine is probably the reason he doesn’t take his omega as seriously as he should.

And it’s over a bowl of decently made soba noodles with a side of his favorite deep-fried tofu that he finally remembers to ask about Tooru’s ‘important news’. (The fact that Tooru’s decided to include his favorite dish in their meal does nothing but make him wary for whatever the other has to say.)

It’s amusing to see the omega perk up so fast though, almost choking on one of the pickled carrots wedged into his mouth. Tooru makes a face, swallowing his food down with a gulp of water before turning those excited eyes back to Hajime, practically bouncing in his chair.

“Oh yeah! The good news! Well—uh, hmm…how should I start…”

Hajime figures it’s more of a rhetorical question, but he still answers with, “Probably from the beginning.”

Tooru rolls his eyes and would probably smack him if he were close enough. “Smart ass.”

But the alpha isn’t given an opportunity for retort before Tooru is back to speaking, “Y’know how I’ve been kind of sickish and gross the past couple of weeks?”

_Kind of_ was an understatement. Tooru _had_ been sick for _weeks_ now—about three to be exact, because of course Hajime paid attention. He’s also has been insisting that Tooru go see their doctor, especially after the third day in a row of him losing his food to the toliet, but with his sudden sickness he’s also been quite irritable, completely refusing the idea of seeing a specialist.

_“I’m telling you it’s something I ate, Hajime! Must have had a bad batch of cookies at the café or something.”_

And he may be no doctor, but even he knew that a person with a serious case of food poisoning couldn’t be as lively as his omega, bouncing all around their apartment with his usually vigor, showcasing all of his normal levels of energy just as he usually did, only with an added couple of trips to the bathroom only when he couldn’t keep a meal or two down.

Honestly, it’s scaring the living mess out of Hajime, but he eventually relents _knowing_ Tooru was practically a brick wall when it came to trying to convince him to take care of himself. (That’s why Hajime usually did it for him.) It helped though that he wiggled a promise out of him that if his symptoms got any worse, that he would go seek help immediately, no if ands or buts about it. Now they were pushing on his fourth week of unexplained illness and Hajime couldn’t deny his sudden intrigue in Tooru bringing it back up.

Hajime nods his head in response to the question, almost cautious in answering as it wouldn’t be the first time that his tone had swayed the omega into not finishing, but it seems Tooru has no trouble in continuing, leaning over the table and smiling at him like he held every secret of the unknown world. “Well, I’ve been talking with Kou-chan—Dai-chan and the twins are doing just fine by the way—and he told me something… _very_ interesting about my symptoms!”

The alpha quirks a brow, a part of him wishing Tooru would just hurry and get on with but another part of him knowing that it wasn’t a Tooru kind of story unless it was filled with all the dramatics. He tries to sit patiently, only a little bothered that Suga happened to know more about his husband than he did.

“Kou-chan brought me something just so we could be sure and, well—” Tooru pauses, biting his lower lip, looking a tad bit shy now and Hajime can’t deny being slightly distracted by the warm blush rising across both of his cheeks. “—it turned out to be positive.”

Hajime’s eyes flicker back from where they had been resting just below Tooru’s eyes and this time his head quirks sideways, confusion obvious in their shared gaze.

“What’s positive?” He asks, the need for clarification necessary because it feels like Tooru’s been talking in circles this entire time. 

“The test.” Tooru replies back, lips twisting into a little pout like it usually does when he doesn’t think Hajime’s been listening.

The alpha has to suppress and eye roll. “I get that, stupid. What does a positive test mean?”

He’s expecting a, _‘So mean Iwa-chan!’ or a ‘Don’t be rude to your husband!’_ any normal additive in their usual banter, which is why he’s completely floored when Tooru merely leans back in his chair, expression serious and face devoid of all humor.

He’s earnest when he responds with: “I’m pregnant, Hajime.”

.

.

.

And Hajime never realized that two words could make his entire world shatter so completely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weirdest sensation his ever experienced is being in a bed with a person he’s known all his life and feel like a complete stranger was lying next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter feels a little short, but I want to highlight small scenes of angst because I like pain apparently. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The weirdest sensation his ever experienced is being in a bed with a person he’s known all his life and feel like a complete stranger was lying next to him.

It’s not just weird, it _hurts—_ it hurts a lot lying next to Tooru now, hurts seeing the back of his head, the mop of messy, unruly curls, instead of the sweep of high cheek bones and long, dark eyelashes tucked neatly and safely underneath his chin. There’s no cool body pressing to his side, slyly shoving ice cold hands up the back of his shirt and no equally as freezing feet trying to curl their way around his own, a twist of intertwined legs that manages to trap the alpha into bed every night without escape, not that he really ever tried to.

Their only semblance of contact is the loose handhold they share in-between the gap of their bodies, something that only existed because Tooru rarely ever slept well without _some_ kind of physical contact. But Hajime can tell in the flimsy press of fingers and the barely-there squeezes of his hand that Tooru would take anyone else’s hand at this point, probably even Ushijima’s or Kageyama’s if presented the choice.

And if that wasn’t a testament to how bad things were right now, he doesn’t know what is.

He can’t blame him though; he shouldn’t even have a right to feeling as miserable as he does.

It’s his fault they were like this to begin with.

Their previous conversation plays in his mind like a broken record, an endless loop of torment that he just can’t seem to escape, worsen now by the fact he’s laid up in their dark bedroom, the only sounds being that of the humming air conditioning and the blowing box fan Tooru liked to keep on for the white noise.

All he can picture is the fall in Tooru’s face—the completely raw, broken expression that overcame his normal features—like it’s been permanently branded into his skull, a forever reminder of how bad he’s truly fucked up—

In the twenty odd something years that he’s known him, Hajime is pretty sure he’s never seen that kind of expression cross Tooru’s face.

Not in the several times they lost to Shiratorizawa.

Not when they were beaten by Karasuno in their third and final year together.

Not even when they were forced to separate to their respective universities after high school.

And it’s completely, without any doubt his entire fault.

With an absolute zero chance of fixing it.

 

 

Because Hajime can’t change the fact that _he does not want this child._

 

It’s selfish; it’s so utterly selfish of him to feel this way. After every gift in life Tooru’s bless him with—bonding with him, marrying him, becoming his and only his for a _lifetime—_ and he still can’t get over his measly fears of having a child come into their lives, even when his omega was actually looking forward to it!

_A flash of Tooru’s twisted face, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes and Hajime’s world falling apart—_

But the nagging voice in the back of his head reminds him too much of how there is no possible way the can afford another mouth in this house. He can see the numbers, see them without even having to calculate them, a glaring red reminder that they already aren’t making ends meet easily enough as it is.

Even with a four-year degree, an education his parents help pay good money for, he still hasn’t manage to find a career suited to his program of study. With no job offers in their area and no other places to turn, he was left with taking a salaries man position, a position that included a small, cramped cubicle with a shitty, beat-up desktop, one that froze all of the damn time, and incompetent team of co-workers that never seemed to manage anything but give him more work every single day.

(He’d like to sock the instructor that convinced him that following his love for graphical engineering was a good idea—there wasn’t _anyone_ hiring for one in their area and they lived in Tokyo for godsakes!)

It’s an awful job and he absolutely hates it, but it’s worth it if he’s able to live with Tooru because of it.

Tooru was in his second to last semester of university, working part-time at a local café and doing as many courses as his scholarship could afford and his job hours can allow. It wasn’t the easiest of lifestyles and Hajime’s nothing short of proud for his hardworking husband who never failed to exceed everyone’s expectations—

That only serves to remind him that with having a baby on the way, Tooru would more than likely be forced to quit school all-together, close to six years wasted because they didn’t use proper protection—

_“I thought we were using protection! Weren’t you supposed to be on the pill?!”_

_Tooru’s broken expression, his recoiling movement at the sound of his harsh words, almost as if Hajime had just slapped him—_

The alpha has to close his eyes and suck in a deep breath.

He’s right. Hajime knows he’s right. He knows deep into their expenses, into their lifestyles, into the very depths of his mind that the two of them aren’t capable of caring for a child right now.

The cons add up, all of his facts are straight and Hajime knows, _knows_ he’s absolutely right on this—

And he still can’t grasp why all of it feels so _wrong._

So much is at stake—hell, their apartment was already at stake at this point and the damn thing wasn’t even born yet—

_Tooru not looking him the eye, slinking down in the chair and submitting to Hajime like they were in the damn Heian period—_

_“Sorry Alpha…”_

His stomach flips violently, turning just so that suddenly he feels like he’s going to vomit— _has_ to go vomit—

Hajime wretches his hand out of Tooru’s and makes a b-line for the bathroom, heaving over the porcelain rim of the bowl for what seems like ages…

He spits up and slobbers all over himself over and over _and over_ , but not a drop of bile comes up, even when his stomach keeps twisting like it could happen any second—

More spit, more hacking, and still nothing.

He spends a few more minutes just sitting there, curled up almost in a ball with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms resting over his knees, holding up his head as he tries to calm his racing heart down. When he finally convinces himself that he’s not actually going to throw up and that he should really go back to bed ( _work was going to be hell tomorrow_ ), both of his arms have gone numb and his legs are on their way of doing the same. It takes some difficulty in getting up as he exits the bathroom with a heavy sigh. Just before he can flick the lights off though, he notices something sitting over on his night stand, something that definitely hadn’t been there before.

Hajime shuffles towards the table, eyeing the new glass of water with some curiosity before picking up the inconspicuous bottle right next to it—

 **STOMACH RELIEF**  
**Bismuth Subsalicylate _  
Antidiarrheal/Upset Stomach Reliever_**

The alpha sweeps his gaze over to the other body still lying in the bed, looking the exact same and as still as he had been before Hajime left. His back still turned and his hand outstretch in a way that couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in.

He stares back down at the bottle for a few more second before finally uncapping it and chugging down half of it before re-capping it and replacing it with the water. He gulps down the entire glass and sets it back down on the night stand, walking back over to the bathroom to shut off the light, finally crawling back into bed.

Hajime assumes Tooru’s position, keeping his back towards the other and reaching back to take the awaiting hand without any hesitation, giving it one firm squeeze as he rests his head down to finally go to sleep.

 

He ends up staring at the digital clock until it’s time for him to get ready for work, slamming down on the snooze button before it even has time to sound once.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don’t just throw away things that are falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE PAIN AND I'M NOT SORRY/// Also, LOL @ me for thinking I was going to update this regularly...

Three times.

Three times has he past the door to the bathroom to retrieve something out of the back room.

Three times has he walked by only to hear the incessant sound of gagging and retching, the telling signs of a person throwing up.

It could be only one person of course, who else lived here besides him and Tooru? And for the first time ever in his life does he wish it could be someone, anyone else sitting behind that closed bathroom door—locked door, he already checked it earlier—and be forced to deal with this mess of a situation.

Opening the door to their bedroom and hearing the gasps for air and pained heaving only manages to worsen that sinking feeling in his gut, a pretty regular occurrence as of late. 

Especially when Hajime’s sure that it isn’t Tooru’s morning sickness making him vomit.

He stares at the door and tries not to think of the person in there behind it, taking in the stark white of the color instead with a few chips missing in the corner and the dots of finger prints closer to the handle. He remembers the promise he made to Tooru that they would repaint it and the bedroom too when they both had a free day together, just so they could finally cover up that ugly, peach color on the walls.

Free days, though, were too few and too short for the both of them to be able to manage a renovation project and the cans of paint in the back of the closet were a testament to that.

_Will we have anytime together with a baby here?_

Hajime closes his eyes and turns away, opening them back only to guide himself out of the room and away from all of the strained whimpers and draining thoughts that only seem to pull even more out of him every day.

He can’t be in there—he doesn’t need another reminder that their lives were going to shit.

But he doesn’t get very far in forgetting, how can he when this tiny apartment was nothing but a reminder of what he and Tooru made together? A nest that only the two of them could _happily_ call home.

_Isn’t it funny how only two weeks ago we could’ve considered ourselves happy?_

Every surface is littered with little trinkets and frames of things they’ve shared with each other or elsewhere, a souvenir of a thousand and more moments that they only had a choice to collect a piece from, whether it be a framed picture or those ridiculous stuffed alien plushies that Tooru seemed to accumulate an army of.

All of those moments are everywhere, accented by Tooru’s ‘tasteful’ furniture choices that would look hideous anywhere else that wasn’t their living room and wasn’t covered in the brightly colored throw pillows and plushies (there was a tiny Godzilla somewhere in there at his request).

It’s bold, it’s flamboyant, and it practically screamed Iwaizumi Tooru at first glance, with hidden subtleties that had Hajime’s name written all over it.

It was _theirs._

He tries to push all of that from his memory, tries to ignore each and every one of those things that is just going to remind him of the person spilling their guts out because of _him_ —

The alpha takes a deep breath and sits. He reaches for the remote, not because he particular wants it on, but because it’s the closest he’s going to get to silencing his thoughts, stop the relentless sounds of gagging and heaving, the heart-breaking whimpers of an omega in need of comfort that he can’t reach—

**_CRACK_ **

The metallic smell reaches his nostrils before Hajime can even registers what’s happened and the first thing he notices before the trail of blood leaking down his arm is the tiny, heart-shaped frame in his hand instead of the remote. The glass is completely shattered now, probably due to his tight grip, and it would be difficult to make out the picture it held in its golden seal if Hajime didn’t already know it too well.

It’s nothing too flashy; nothing posed or prompted beforehand—hell, neither he nor Tooru were even staring at the camera when somebody decided to snap it. They weren’t really doing anything special, all laid up on the couch together, probably watching some ridiculous sci-fi special if Hajime remembered correctly, with Tooru’s head cradled in his lap and him staring down at him with fingers tangled up in his hair. There were no fake smiles, no grouchy looks (which was usually a default when dealing with Tooru), or any encouraged, exaggerated expressions.

Just Hajime and Tooru with soft expressions and small smiles, staring at each like the other was their entire world.

A picture clearly filled with love.

 

A picture now clearly broken, the side stained with the leaking flow of Hajime’s blood.

_Broken, huh?_

He sets the picture back down, careful to try and not disturb anymore of the broken glass out of the frame, resting it so that it lay facing upwards and somewhat intact.

A part of him wonders why bother? The stupid thing was already broken and it wasn’t like they just had a spare heart-shaped piece of glass lying around somewhere. Tooru could just print out another copy and buy another frame, it wasn’t like this one was something particularly special to the thousands of photos they had decorating the entire house.

Another part of him, the more poetic side maybe, reminds him that you don’t just throw away things that are falling apart.

The alpha moves to the kitchen, grabbing the dust pan and the broom from where they were tucked away so that he can sweep up some of the stray shards and put them in the waste bin, even brushing off the end table for good measure.

He regards his hand after that, noting that the trail of blood has lessened but hasn’t stopped completely. He runs it under the sink for a moment, turning after to head to the bathroom where they kept their bandages—

And stops completely in his tracks when he remembers _who_ was still in there.

A heavy scale weighs in his mind, a deep mental contemplation of whether it would be a good idea to try and bother his husband right now or if it would just be better to run down to the convenience store.

The sounds of the omega vomiting fills his ears once more and it’s all the motivation he needs to wrap a towel around his bleeding hand (he makes sure it isn’t one of Tooru’s favorites) and head out to the little ‘Ma and Pa’ store just around the corner.

It’s still pretty early in the day, enough that there aren’t too many people in the store when he finally makes it down there. One or two at the most, which isn’t too surprising considering this store wasn’t ever that busy. Sometimes Hajime would come down and help the little old couple that ran the store, carrying a few crates in when their younger employees weren’t around and when he noticed the older gentleman trying to do it by himself. They were a sweet bunch, always trying to pay him for his help which Hajime always refused. A lot of times they would just call it even over a couple of free snacks, an opportunity Tooru always jumped at since they sold his favorite brand of milk bread.

 _”Finally something all those beefy muscles are good for!”_ He would tell him and Hajime could never find it in him to smack him when Tooru seemed so utterly pleased with munching on his free food.

There’s a sudden twist to his gut and Hajime wonders if he’ll ever get used to the hurting.

He tries to distract himself with finding the right bandages, the ones that wrapped around easily without chaffing the rest of his skin or making his hand too sweaty underneath. He pulls one from the shelf, the same brand Coach used to wrap swollen ankles in high school, and he’s about to head to the register until something catches his eye.

_Nausea/Indigestion Relief_

A little sign at the end of the aisle, hand-written and slightly illegible but it catches his eyes well enough.

He makes his way over, blatantly ignoring _why_ when they had several perfectly good bottles of bismuth—

Hajime ignores it and looks over each bottle carefully until something makes him pause:

 **Emetrol for Nausea**  
_associated with upset stomach  
*safe for pregnant and nursing mothers_

There is no pause or hesitation to it, he simply plucks up the cherry-flavored one and makes his way to the register, grabbing a couple of sports drinks and maybe a couple of milk breads on his way.

The cashier, one of their younger employees that only seemed to work weekends, luckily holds her tongue when she notices his towel-tied hand even though Hajime can tell she wants to ask, ringing up all of his items without a word besides the typical pleasantries. She eyes the stomach medicine for a moment and he vaguely wonders if she’s made the association to his omega that usually always came to the store with him, but she’s handing him the bag and his cash back before he can think about it again, sending him on his way with a wave and a tiny, _“Please come back again!”_

He’s a little thankful too that Yumiko-san hadn’t been managing the cash register or else he would’ve never made it out without answering a million questions.

_Questions he didn’t want the answer to._

Hajime makes it back without any trouble, pulling his purchase out the second he’s through the door and wrapping his own hand properly before bringing the soiled towel back to the hamper in the bedroom, noting the fullness of their laundry pile with a little annoyance.  

He’s about to call Tooru out, because it’s _his_ turn to do laundry this week, but freezes once he sees the still closed door of their bathroom. The sound of heaving and puking have seem to stop completely and for a heart-wrenching second Hajime can’t hear a single sound coming from the bathroom—

A sudden cough and the sound of spitting makes his heart stop racing but also serves to make the ache in his chest fill even more.

He rests the bag held in his injured hand against the door and turns to take the dirtied clothes out of the room without a sound, setting them in the kitchen so he can fetch their portable washer and attach the hose to the kitchen sink so he can start tackling this mountain of clothes.

 

The next time he walks into the bedroom he notices that the bag is gone.

 

And when he walks into the living room the next morning, he notices that the picture is too.

**Author's Note:**

> We're going on a bumpy ride here with this one...


End file.
